All the Pretty Lies (15 page)

“But nothing prepared me for tonight,” he
whispers as he brings his hands around to grip mine, loosening them
from the vinyl and easing me farther back, onto my elbows. “I
didn’t think I could want you anymore until I saw you lying there
tonight. I knew then that no matter how hard I fought, I wouldn’t
be able to rest until I could feel you coming on my fingers. Until
I could take them from inside you and lick the juice from
them.”

His hands skim down my sides and slide under
my butt, pulling my hips closer to the edge of the bed. Hemi wedges
himself into the V. His body and his clothes graze me there, making
me ache for more pressure, for something to fill the emptiness, for
Hemi to quiet the throb.

Then his lips are on mine again, his hands
finding their way to the place I crave them most. I feel one
fingertip brush the outside before Hemi drags it along the crease
of me. I gasp again, unaccustomed to the myriad sensations he’s
inciting.

“You like that?” he whispers against my lips.
“You want more?”

I can’t speak. All I can do is give him one
short, breathless moan.

“That’s right, baby. I wanna hear it.”

His tongue licks at my lips as he massages my
throbbing flesh with his finger.

“Holy shit, you’re so wet,” he groans. “I
wanna be inside you so bad.”

He slides his tongue into my mouth just as
his finger enters me. Slowly, carefully, he licks along my tongue,
tasting me deeply as his finger explores my body. I feel the
pressure of it as Hemi bends his finger and drags it out, slowly. A
tightness squeezes my stomach and tension builds between my legs. I
want to beg, to plead, but the words won’t come. Only sounds.

“I’m gonna make you come for me, Sloane. And
I wanna hear you when I do.”

He introduces another finger, moving them
both into me as he uses the thumb of his other hand to touch the
sensitive muscle at the top of my folds. I feel like I’m on the
verge of flying apart when he takes my clitoris between his
fingertips and tugs.

“That’s right, baby,” he says when my hips
start to move against his hands. “Look down, Sloane. Watch what I’m
doing to you.”

Hemi leans his chest away from mine enough
that I can see, that I can do as he asks. Two fingers of one hand
are disappearing inside me, his knuckles pressing into my spread
folds. His other hand is cupping my hip, his thumb working in tight
little circles over my clitoris.

“The next time you watch, you’ll be seeing my
cock pounding into you and coming out slick and wet. And you’ll see
me pull out and come. Right here,” he says, flicking the nub of
swollen flesh as he drives another finger into me.

His voice gets softer and softer, sounds
farther and farther away as my world sharpens to a pinpoint focus.
Everything is dim compared to what Hemi is doing to me with his
hands.

And then my breathing stops, my breath caught
in a tight pocket inside my chest. I squeeze my eyes shut as a loud
moan is torn from me. Light explodes behind my lids. Fire rains
through me. Liquid, hot and glowing, pours into my core and out
onto his hands.

“That’s it, Sloane. Oh, God, that’s it. Come
for me.”

His fingers are magic, his words a heady
elixir. After a few seconds of nothing but intense sensation, a
numbness sneaks into my limbs, making them heavy. My arms won’t
support me anymore and I fall back onto the padded surface of the
table. My breath is back, expelled from my body in a series of
shallow pants.

When I can finally open my eyes, I glance
down and see Hemi watching me, a ravenous look on his face. Slowly,
as I watch, he raises his hand to his mouth and slides his tongue
along one long finger. “Holy fuc—” The expression is cut off when
he grits his teeth and closes his eyes. He leans forward, bracing
his hands on either side of my hips and letting his head hang down
again. I hear him growl and feel him pound his palms into the
padding of the table. When he speaks, I have to strain to hear him.
“I’m stopping tonight, Sloane. I want this choice to be yours.”

“Choice?” I say, confused.

Hemi looks up at me. He looks almost like
he’s in pain. “Yes, this is a decision you need to make when
there’s no pressure, no one to sway you. When I’m not rock hard
with the need to get inside you.”

The heaviness between my thighs recedes and I
come back to life with a tingle at his words.

“You’re not pressuring me.”

“I’ve known a lot of different kinds of
women. But none like you. Not one. I’m trying to do the right thing
here.”

I doubt he means for them to, but his words
make me feel like…less. I turn my head to the side, away from his
gaze. “It’s not like something I did
on purpose,”
I explain,
trying not to sound defensive about my virginity.

“It’s not a bad thing. That’s not what I’m
saying. It’s not a bad thing
at all.
I’m not exactly sure
how you’ve managed it, but I’m actually kinda glad you’re a
virgin.”

“Well, I didn’t really have much opportunity.
With a father and brothers like mine, guys didn’t exactly feel
comfortable pressing their luck. I guess they were all just a
little too afraid of the Locke men.”

“Their loss is my gain then,” he says,
pulling me into a sitting position, speaking softly in my ear as he
rubs his cheek against mine. “Just know this, Sloane, I can’t walk
away from you again. You need to be sure this is what you want. And
that I’m the person you want it with.”

I lean back, meeting Hemi’s eyes, falling
into the stormy blue depths. “I want this,” I admit simply.

“I may not be able to give you breakfasts and
promises, but I can give you pleasure like you’ve never even
dreamed of. That will have to be enough.”

“I don’t want promises. Most of the time,
promises are just pretty lies. They’re words designed to make
others feel better. But in the end, they’re still just lies.
Disappointing lies,” I tell him in a moment of bald honesty. “So
don’t worry about making me promises. I’d rather have your
truth.”

For a moment, before he hides it from my
view, I see a flash of regret. I’m not sure what it means, and I’m
going to do my best not to focus on it. On
anything
that
could take away from this special time. Whatever secrets Hemi has
are his to keep and his to share. Just like mine are. We all have
our reasons for hiding things. I, of all people, can’t deny someone
else
theirs.

“Then that’s what I’ll give you. The truth.
Starting right now,” he says, taking my face in his hands. “I want
you, Sloane. I want to do things to you, do things
with
you.
I want to show you what it feels like to have someone worship your
body. I want you to experience the pleasure a man
should
bring you, so you never settle for less. Just know that, while
we’re together, you’re mine. All mine. No one else’s. Do you
understand?” I nod. “Don’t get me wrong. I
loved
seeing this
beautiful body in that pose, like the picture of innocence and sin,
all wrapped up in smooth, creamy skin. But,” Hemi says, a frown
wrinkling his brow, “I didn’t like other people getting to see you
that way.”

“It’s not like I was doing anything with any
of them. Or even that I
knew
any of them. Well, except
Paul.” My cheeks sting just thinking about facing him again.

“I know. But I still didn’t like it.”

I won’t smile because that would be rude and
inconsiderate. But I want to. On the inside, I’m smiling.

“You won’t be doing that again, will you?” he
asks.

“God, no!”

I feel his breath fan my cheek when he
exhales. “Good. I’d hate to have to come and throw a blanket over
you, and drag you out of there.”

This time, I do smile. “And what makes you
think that would be okay?”

“Because
somebody
just told me that
while she’s mine,
she’s only mine.
And that includes
looking. I’d hate to have to beat the shit out of a bunch of
college pricks because they were at the wrong place at the wrong
time.”

“You’d do that?” I can’t deny the pleasure
his words bring.

“Hell yeah I’d do that!”

“Well then, far be it for me to endanger the
lives of others. I guess I’d better keep my clothes on.”

“Except when you’re with me. Instead of an
‘open door’ policy, I have a ‘clothing optional’ policy.”

“Does that go for all your employees?”

“No, just the hot students that look like
angels and taste like candy.”

I nod, the thought crossing my mind that I
could stare into his eyes forever and never get bored. I could
listen to his voice right on and on, and never miss other sounds.
For a while—however long that might be—I’m going to throw myself
into Hemi. And, as long as I have after it’s over, I’ll never look
back with regret.

I think of the drawing he had me pen onto his
side, in the hotel room—forever ago, it seems—and I wonder who used
to say that. I can’t help but think of Sasha. “What about you? Will
you be all mine, too?”

“If you want me to be.”

“What about Sasha?”

Hemi frowns. “What about Sasha?”

“Aren’t you two…? I mean, didn’t you used to
be a…thing?”

“We were. But we aren’t now. I’m just doing a
favor for an old friend. Nothing more.”

“Does Sasha know that?”

“She should. But if she doesn’t, she’ll find
out soon enough.”

“Is she, uh, is she the one that lives, no
regrets?”

Again, I see something dart through Hemi’s
expression, only to be gone in an instant. This time, it looks like
pain. “No, it wasn’t Sasha.”

I pause, waiting for him to continue. Hoping
he will. But knowing, somehow, that he won’t.

“Well, it’s a good motto. Maybe
I’ll
have to get that inked somewhere, too.”

“Maybe we can do each other,” he suggests
with a wicked grin.

“I like the sound of that.”

“Somehow, I knew you would. Maybe I should
add ‘devil’ to that description of you.”

“No, I think that’s better suited for
you.”

Again, I see something odd flit through
Hemi’s dark eyes. It’s gone as quickly as it came. I wonder,
absently and with a growing sense of dread, how long I’ll be able
to ignore it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO- Hemi

I’m still awake when Reese calls.

“Turns out there are a lot of people
interested in this bastard. I don’t know how he’s kept his nose out
of the shit for so long, but he has. That’s over now, though. I put
a call into that friend of mine that works with the Georgia
Attorney General’s office. It won’t be long until he’s in touch
with the internal affairs guys there at the local level. I hope for
his sake that this Locke asshole hasn’t made many enemies along the
way. If anyone else is as dirty as he is, and the word gets out,
someone else is liable to clean up this mess. The permanent
way.”

I feel the beginnings of a headache. It
worsens the longer Reese talks. This is what we wanted. It’s what
we needed to do. A matter of honor. And respect. And it’s important
to me. To all of us.

But…

It’ll kill Sloane. Of course, it’s not my
fault her brother’s a d-bag.

But still…

And if…no
when…
she finds out I had a
hand in it, it’ll be over. She’ll hate me and this will be over
before it began.

That shouldn’t bother me. I mean, I don’t
even know her that well. I shouldn’t give a shit. She’s collateral
damage. The sister to a shitbird bastard, asshole-of-a-human.

But still…

“Just keep me posted, man. I, uh, I wanna
know what’s going down. You know, so I can be prepared.”

“Prepared? Prepared for what?” Reese
asks.

“How the hell should I know? I’m the one on
the front lines here. Who knows what kind of back lash something
like this could have? Especially when they find out who I am.
They’ll make the connection.”

“By then it won’t matter. It’ll be dealt
with. One way or the other.”

I grit my teeth. “Still, I wanna know.”

“All right. Whatever. I’m making the call.
Watch your back or sleep with one eye open, whatever it is you feel
like you need to do. But I still don’t think you’ll have anything
to worry about.”

“You don’t know these people. They take care
of their own.”

“Even when one of their own is dirty?”

“They’re like family. Some of them are
literally
family. I think it would be a mistake to
underestimate them.”

“Whatever. I’ll keep you posted,” he says in
his short, clipped way.

“Thanks.”

“Later,” Reese says.

“Later.”

The line goes dead and I’m left in the quiet
of my house, thinking.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE- Sloane

“What the hell are you so happy about at this
hour?” Steven asks as he stomps groggily into the kitchen.

“Good morning to you, too,” I reply
cheerfully.

I sip my coffee as he makes himself a
sandwich. It’s been Steven’s habit since we were kids to have a
weird, lunch-like breakfast. It’s not unusual for him to have a
peanut butter sandwich or a roast beef sandwich, sometimes even a
tuna fish sandwich, which is the nastiest thing in the world to
smell at six a.m.

“Well, what’s going on with you? I notice
you’re keeping late hours. Just going right off the deep end, huh?”
he says sharply.

“No, I’m not ‘going right off the deep
end’.”

“Sure as shit seems like it. Staying out
until all hours, drinking, making friends with all sorts of
unsavory types.”

I get immediately defensive. “And just what
‘unsavory types’ are you referring to?”

“You didn’t think I’d forget, did you? That
guy? At Cuff’s? That wasn’t the first time you two met. And I’ve
seen him around there before. He’s probably a small-time criminal.
Just the kind of person you need to get involved with right out of
the gate,” he says snidely.